


you've already won me over

by beepbedeep



Category: Happiest Season (2020)
Genre: ABOUT THAT FACT, AND DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO, F/F, I think!!!!, abby likes riley A LOT, summer is a good time, to fall in love, year in the life kinda fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbedeep/pseuds/beepbedeep
Summary: Abby doesn’t meant to, but she holds onto each one, slides it into a previously undiscovered part of her brain that also keeps track of things likeRiley’s voice makes Abby’s stomach flutterandAbby can’t think about the soft weight of Riley’s hair for more than three seconds or she’ll start thinking about Riley’s lips and that’s NOT something we can deal with right now.ORAbby Holland falls in love with Riley Johnson in the summer.
Relationships: Abby Holland/Riley Johnson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	1. winter

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hi!!!! I know it is SIMPLY late february and this IS a christmas movie fic but here we are!!!!! having an aubrey plaza MOMENT!

Abby Holland falls in love with Riley Johnson in the summer. It’s a _hot_ one, the kind that causes power outages and too many hurricanes, the kind that makes John twist his face up at the weather reports, _well climate change has us all fucked doesn’t it_. It’s sweaty and sticky, Abby worries about her grandparents and Riley sees people come into the ER for heat exhaustion almost daily. Fans are on full blast, beaches are flooded with people and kids squeal from sprinklers until 10pm. As it turns out, this is the perfect weather for getting over a broken heart. (Which isn’t a term that Abby _likes_ , it’s too “and they lived happily ever after” for her. It’s just a breakup. A breakup with her almost fiancée, but still. Just a breakup. And yes, she does feel a little broken, thank you for asking.) 

The breaking happens in winter, a holiday trip gone _so so wrong_ , a horrific fight involving a family Abby isn’t even part of. She runs out, her best friend follows, and she cries while he drives them both home. Harper comes back to their apartment a few days later, "I told my family you couldn’t handle any more Christmas", doesn’t mention the living room showdown, doesn’t mention lying again and again and again. Abby gets it, she _really_ does. She knows Harper well, knows enough to see how scared she is. She’s not going to be the one to traumatize Harper, not like Harper hurt Riley, none of them are in high school anymore. But she can’t stay. _Their_ apartment is _Harper’s_ apartment before the day ends and as Abby steps out into the last week of Pittsburgh December the freezing air crawls into her lungs and chills the tears dripping off her cheeks. Abby can’t imagine being warm again. 

It’s a long winter, December is really only the start, but it’s too cold for Abby to eagerly apartment hunt. Instead she curls up on John’s couch, piles blankets around her, and tries to focus on her dissertation between planning what her life even _looks like now_. Luckily John is an expert of pulling her out from any particularly nasty _ohmygodohmygodwhatamIevendoing_ rabbit holes and forces her to read manuscripts with him when things go too far. She gets through a lot of books like that, snarks at a few of them with John but mostly enjoys seeing all the things people have come up with. Turns out, there are a lot of different ways to imagine the world. 

On New Year’s Eve (just a few short and excruciating days after the breakup) she can’t stop crying but John still takes her out, then takes her home early. They watch some movie with Julia Roberts, clink glasses at midnight, and when she wakes up the next morning with only a mild headache and John still snoring next to her the first piece of her old self _clicks_ back into place. She doesn’t check her phone until noon the next day, between getting her decidedly more hungover best friend into his bed and making an actual breakfast, but when she does there’s a text from a name that she associates with drag bars, rich white people gossip, and eye contact across a crowded room. **Happy single girl NYE!** and then just a few seconds later **oh fuck wait, too soon?**

Abby grins, she can picture the faint blush spreading across Riley’s normally self-assured face. **Worth it to hear from you. At least I’m in good company.** She thinks there won’t be a reply for a while, but her phone buzzes just a few seconds later. **Did I not mention my husband and 2.5 kids? Oops.**

And Abby bursts out laughing in the silent apartment, which might be a sign that she’s a _mess_ , but Riley’s humor feels like a balm after the nonstop emotional turmoil she’s been living with. **Well in that case this single girl appreciates your marital bliss sympathy.** There’s a pause again, and Abby doesn’t even really know Riley, certainly doesn’t know her well enough to predict her laugh.

And yet, she can almost imagine a low chuckle rolling through the air, Riley’s lips curved in a gentle smile. **Morning, cowgirl.**

**Cowgirl??**

**Nickname. I’m workshopping.**

**Aren’t doctors supposed to be quick on their feet?**

**With defibrillators? Yes. But nicknames are an art form.**

**Doesn’t that make it more of my thing then?**

**Good point Sasquatch.**

**Sasquatch???**

**In a cute way. I promise.**

And now Abby is smiling for real, in a way she hasn’t since arriving to the Caldwell’s two weeks ago. **Stick with cowgirl.**

 **Rodger that. Happy New Year cowgirl.**

They don’t text much at first, Abby’s mood on January 1st proves to be a little too good to be true and she doesn’t smile much in the following weeks. But she makes lesson plans, teaches her 101 students and writes up reports to the dean on Saturdays. She reads with John, makes dinner for herself on Valentine’s Day, and slowly, achingly, begins to put herself back together. 

(And Riley still _does_ text, even calls Abby on February 15th to describe her horrible date. It’s not anything, but it’s not nothing either. Riley sends pictures of dogs on the train, and a few cats with brave owners. Abby sends back obscure art that she’s researching and amateur reviews of John’s manuscripts. Their correspondence is a bright spot in an otherwise gross couple of months and Abby is more grateful than she knows how to express. She can’t just come out and say, _hey thanks for the cat in that person’s backpack, it’s funny but actually so much better coming from you. And actually everything is better coming from you, and you might really matter a lot to me. But like. In a totally cool way._ So she doesn’t say anything, just sends back pictures of tree outside John’s apartment that is starting to bloom just a little early. But everything is ok, she has the sneaking suspicion Riley just _gets it_.) 

The winter wears on. Riley worries about people slipping on icy sidewalks and carbon monoxide poisoning, Abby researches and reassures no less than five crying students about their grades. And slowly, without any direct eye contact or announcement, spring arrives. The days get a little longer ( **My shift is over and THERE’S STILL LIGHT!!!** Riley’s message arrives with an uncharacteristic amount of exclamation points and Abby smiles embarrassingly wide at her phone screen) the trees start to cover themselves in a new blanket of green, and everything smells a little happier than before. 

_Like clean laundry? Or the idea of flowers? A combination of cold and sweet? More possibility or something?_ Abby can’t find a way to describe exactly what she means on their almost daily morning-commute phone call but the way Riley laughs (husky and warm) makes her chest feel so light she can’t exactly remember what she was talking about in the first place anyway. Spring is mellow, softer than the dreary storm of winter, and Abby finds herself relaxing into it. 

She opens a window for the first time and even though John shuts it the second he gets home ( _it’s not that warm yet_ ) she still thinks this might be progress. Weekends of grieving and sitting on the couch turn into walks in the park and seeing old friends, exploring new restaurants, getting home late because work was exciting enough to want to stay, and of course, Riley. They text constantly now, seemingly random updates traded back and forth that build Riley into this whole real _person_ that Abby finds herself more and more enthralled by. Some days they talk late into the night about high school and dead parents, other times they argue about a new TV show, and even when Riley calls her with audible exhaustion pulsing through her voice, "tonight’s shift was long, is it silly that I wanted to hear your voice before falling asleep?" 

She never says anything like that during the day, not when she’s collected and fully conscious (Riley is ridiculously on top of her shit, in a way Abby didn’t think real people could be and it’s weirdly attractive?? But like. That’s not a thing she notices all that much. Obviously.) but sometimes she slips when it gets really late or when the past sixteen hours have been particularly draining. Abby doesn’t meant to, but she holds onto each one, slides it into a previously undiscovered part of her brain that also keeps track of things like _Riley’s voice makes Abby’s stomach flutter_ and _Abby can’t think about the soft weight of Riley’s hair for more than three seconds or she’ll start thinking about Riley’s lips and that’s NOT something we can deal with right now._

And even when Riley doesn’t slip, when she’s totally on top of her game, Abby weirdly still feels loved. Riley’s laugh is full throated and genuine and for someone who processes to “never waste time” she spends an awful lot of time talking to Abby. Abby asks about it once, and Riley’s response arrives in record time, **nothing about you is a waste. I like talking to you cowgirl. A lot.**


	2. spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! this fic is entirely written and I have no sense of dramatic flair so! will be posting it ALL TODAY!!!

Before long the flowers are fully in bloom, the first ones even starting to die back, and Abby thinks about Riley at least half of her day. 

Her students are getting antsy, sweet freshman who can’t wait to have their first year over with and dread things changing at the same time. The last few weeks of classes before summer are always her favorite, the sweetest parts of spring beginning to make good on their promises. Riley’s low laugh and endearingly weird sense of humor line her days and they have enough inside jokes by now that Abby’s pretty sure they’d be insufferable if they were ever in the same place. The only part that sucks is that they never are, and maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it keeps all of this from being too real or too complicated, keeps Abby from asking herself questions she’s not sure she’s ready for. But still, it sucks. She’d like to see Riley the same way she sees John or any of her friends here, easily and often, for coffee or lunch or bad movies. (Honestly she’d do anything asl long as it was paired with Riley’s keen observations and slow smile.) And then, one bright morning after a grey, rainy weekend, Riley calls a little later than she normally does. 

When Abby picks up she can almost hear the excitement buzzing from the other end of the line, "Morning, Riles." 

"Hey cowgirl. Guess what?"

"What?" 

"Remember the residency I applied for? At the Pittsburgh children’s hospital?" 

"Yeah??" And Abby can guess what this means, except that she’s too afraid of being wrong to think it all the way. 

"I got it. They just told me."

"What? Riley, that’s amazing!! I mean of course they’d say yes to you, who wouldn’t want you as close as possible-" And Abby knows she’s rambling, but for some reason she’s a little too happy to care. 

Riley’s breath catches for a moment, the way it always does before she asks an important question. "Are you sure it would be ok? For me to be so close?"

And yeah, Abby can think of a million reasons why it might be strange, why this could be a complicated, terrible idea with Harper still in the same city and everything they haven’t discussed about her waiting in the wings to cause all kinds of problems. But _none of that feels like it matters_ , not when Riley with her _laugh_ and _hands_ and _hair_ could be in the same city. 

"Honestly, I’ve kind of never wanted anything more."

The last weeks of May arrive briskly, bringing steadily warmer breezes and bustling squirrels. Abby takes the longest routes possible to walk from her office to the classroom and opens the windows if she gets there before any of her students. The sky is blue most days, even if the air is still a little chilly, and the world feels blown wide open like it always does this time of year. She gets home to neighbors’ music carried out through doors left ajar and grades papers on facetime with Riley who is good at lots and lots of things but _not_ moving. (She’ll sigh, "I can’t be clinical about packing, you know? This is my life.") 

Abby laughs and watches as her _incredibly strange_ friend wrestles things into boxes only to unpack them a day later because, "I still needed that pan goddamnit". It’s a reminder that Riley, for all her independence, comes from a stable family that (mostly) loves her, that she views each place she lives as a home. Abby hasn’t had a place that feels home since her parents died. Turns out that for efficient packing, no emotional connection to your kitchen cabinets is a superpower. She lends her solidarity as Riley sniffles over the color of her bathroom walls ("this was the first place that was really mine") and tries not to think about how this fondness for the window in front of her stove might not make sense as a Riley-thing to anyone who didn’t know her that well, but absolutely tracks for Abby. 

She’s not sure what knowing someone that well would mean. 

She asks once, "Riles are you sure about this? Your hospital now would offer you a permanent position, right?"

Riley had grinned, the way that never fails to make Abby’s heart flip like a fish out of water, "just because something’s sad doesn’t meant whatever’s coming next won’t be great. This is a good change, Cowgirl."

She launches into a familiar spiel about the children’s hospital, about the treatments they’re pioneering, the lives that she can help save. Abby resolves to learn more about it. Really, despite having lived adjacent to the bustling campus for her entire post-undergrad life she doesn’t know much about the hospital, aside from visiting a friend’s sister post-appendectomy. The parking lots and visible ER sign haven’t been a significant piece of her consciousness, but suddenly it becomes _Riley’s soon to be hospital_ and for some reason that means she walks by more slowly, wonders what it might be like behind the giant glass windows that flank some of the newer buildings. 

The week before she leaves, Riley’s coworkers throw her a party. Abby hears all about it the next day, courtesy of her grumpily hungover doctor. She also receives a voicemail from a call made after she fell asleep, short and full of background noise. Still, she’d pick out Riley’s voice anywhere, even with the slight slur and tone that she’d have to call _nervous_. (Which doesn’t really make sense, because Riley is never nervous.) "Hi sunshine. There’s something, um. There’s something I need to tell you. But it’s really scary and I don’t want to freak you out and- oh my god I’m making it sound like I have cancer don’t I??? Sorry, doctor humor. Um. Anyway. Byeeeee!!!" 

Abby listens to it approximately fifty times, tries to guess what Riley’s trying to say. She wants to _guess_ , feels it on the tip of her tongue, but she’s not sure.

Instead she breaths in the warm spring air, goes to a farmer’s market because it feels like the thing to do, brings cookies to her students on the last day of class, doesn’t wear a jacket when she goes outside, and _waits for Riley_. 

She almost can’t sleep the night before Riley arrives, which makes no sense because Abby _loves_ sleeping. Instead she takes advantage of the early sunrise and sits on the stoop with a cup of tea that Riley says she loves, doing her best to not wake John. (The roommate thing is working out pretty well, kind of like college but more bills and less fuckboys, at least for her. If she wakes her best friend up at five in the morning because she can’t sleep the “pretty well” thing might not be so true.) Her phone buzzes and her stomach flips again. **Hey cowgirl. Morning. Or like, soon-to-be-morning. I’m just about to start driving, thought you’d want to know.**

**Morning Riles.**

**Whoa, you’re up?**

**Can’t sleep. Almost like I’m excited or something.**

**Can’t imagine what for.**

**I’m a woman of mystery!**

**Yeah you are.** Abby can summon a flash of Riley’s face, a sweet soft laugh in response to her declaration. Her phone buzzes again, repeatedly, and she answers the call, something in her stomach _twisting_ the way it does whenever she's about to hear Riley's voice. 

"Hey, so. Question?" 

"Of course!" 

"I was wondering if like, today if you’re free in the afternoon, would you want to come to the new apartment with me? I could pick you up once I get into the city." 

"Really?" 

"Only if you’re free, obvs. Promise I’m not trying to make you unpack for me, you won’t even have to touch a box." 

"No ulterior motive Dr. Bennet?" 

"Only missing you, Abby." 

The use of her actual name, as opposed to their typical nicknames _presses_ itself right into Abby’s heart. "I’d love that. And I’ll _definitely_ be helping you unpack." 

"See you soon, sunshine." 

"Drive safe Riles." 

Abby hopes Riley can hear her smile over the phone. After she hangs up the phone ("promise to CPR yourself if you get in an accident!") Abby stays outside, looking at the fresh grass and excited for something she can’t quite name. 


	3. summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part three!! here we goooo!!! (this chapter is disproportionally long I am very sorry)

She first saw Riley in the winter, has only seen her face over a screen for the past seven months, so Abby figures she can’t be blamed for only now realizing that summer is _definitely_ Riley’s season. Winter Riley was beautiful, an instantly friendly face, her presence a crucial reprieve from the _mess_ everything else had been. But if winter-suburbs-home-to-see-the-family-Riley, tucked into her long coats and protective dry sarcasm had been beautiful, the summer-road-trip-Riley who pulls up to Abby/John’s front curb, slides out of the car, and cracks her back is drop dead gorgeous. 

(Abby can feel any semblance of coherent thought that managed to survive the day’s anticipatory jitters fly out of her brain, to be quickly replaced with a flood of _prettygirlprettygirlprettygirl_ that Abby thought she got over in high school, plus a nagging curiosity about how Riley’s neck might smell.) 

The Riley who gets out of the car has her hair pulled up, the kind of hairstyle Abby can imagine her doing on the way to work every morning, except that this particular ponytail clearly belongs to a women who’s moving states and has been on the road for half the day, a few strands have escaped and stuck to Riley’s neck and cheeks. And _god_ , Abby didn’t know something so small could be so _cute_ , but Riley is intimidatingly collected most of the time (even though Abby has talked to her after long shifts, when she’s dead tired, when she hasn’t showered in days, but somehow all of that still feels _perfect_ ) so the rare times Riley lets the messiness slip out Abby almost can’t breathe. 

It’s midday by now and the late June sun is beating down on them, somehow landing on Riley’s hair in exactly the right way to make it shine, full of shades Abby’s never noticed before. Summer-Riley is tanned where Abby is starting to burn, wearing shorts that are perfectly respectable, suitable for a long drive, and still hit her thighs in a way Abby can’t tear her eyes away from with what is probably an old t-shirt tucked into them. And then, before Abby can really bring herself back to earth, out of her _fuck Riley is so pretty what the fuck what the fuck_ inner monologue, Riley is running up the steps towards her, smiling like she had at the bar half a year ago, except this is a little more familiar, a little more _something_ , and Abby opens her arms just as Riley launches herself into them. 

That’s how they stay for a few moments, not saying anything. And then Riley pulls back, smiles again, "you look cute today, Cupcake."

Riley’s new apartment is nice ("thank god, I was so worried it’d turn out to have a family of rats or something, and it would take so long to befriend an entire group of rodents, that’s a lot of baby shower gifts to buy."

"For rats?" 

"Rats are notoriously picky about their shower presents.") with plenty of windows, hopefully quiet upstairs neighbors, and a balcony. 

It’s walking distance to the hospital, but far enough away that it feels like an entirely separate neighborhood, full of trees and people bustling around the streets. (As much as anyone bustles in mid-afternoon heat.) Abby sees Riley’s face light up as they explore the new place and something in her own chest feels lighter too. As promised, Riley doesn’t ask Abby to carry a single box. Abby still brings half of them up. The day is a heady blur of _thereness_ , Riley’s legs and softly rasping voice flooding every one of her senses. The day is hot but that just means they get to take frequent breaks, slurping cold drinks fast enough to give themselves headaches, Abby trying to figure out where the couch that’s coming later should fit while Riley whips out a back of Clorox wipes and starts cleaning EVERYTHING. ("you’re laughing, but I see how gross people are every day. Trust me, this is perfectly sane.") 

The day ends with Abby and Riley sprawled on the floor by the newly opened windows, giggle-shrieks from children and the faint scent of barbeque floating in. There are boxes strewn across the room, some opened and others awaiting furniture, but the bathroom is full set up and Riley knows exactly the curtains she wants to buy so all in all it feels like a productive day. As the sun _slowly_ sets, the whole room gets lit up orange, and Abby can’t tear her eyes away from the glow on Riley’s face, animated by a story from when she was five and obsessed with climbing up on kitchen countertops. 

They stay on the floor eating takeout long after the light leaves. And even though talking on the phone and constantly texting has been great, it’s a _whole new world now_ , to be able to just _sit_ next to Riley, to hear the contrast in the patterns of their breath, to not be worried about missing anything. 

Abby hasn’t loved summer since she was a child, back when camps and popsicles and no school (!) had been the highlight of her year. Somehow Riley is better than _all of that_. 

Her furniture gets delayed so it takes a full two weeks for the apartment to be entirely set up, and Abby finds herself coming over almost every day. They hang a painting that miraculously didn’t get crushed in the car, paint the bedroom a hazy purple and spend two days trying to decipher instructions for a set of shelves ("I’m a _doctor_ and you’re like, the most competent person ever. IT SHOULD NOT BE THIS HARD!!!" Abby floats on the compliment for the rest of her day and once they find a YouTube video with instructions it gets a whole lot easier.) And it’s not that Abby wouldn’t do this for any of her friends – she helped John move last year and makes a point of driving people to the airport. She loves all her people, loves spending time with them however they have the time, but she’s never spent quite this much time doing such mundane tasks with someone else. (Discounting the fact that even though none of this should be exciting she wakes up with energy lacing its way through her skin when the only thing they’re doing is _unpacking dishes_ or something equally normal.) 

The day before Riley starts her new job they rearrange the finally-delivered furniture four times. (Riley asks Abby what she thinks about every change and always listens.) Eight hours later everything has a place for the first time and Abby basks in the Riley-ness of it all, the eclectic décor, soft cushions, and surprising wall paper. In just two weeks it feels like a home, something Abby hasn’t been able to create in her own living spaces since her parents. She says as much to Riley, "I don’t even know how to make a place feel like home the way you do."

Riley gasps and quickly assumes a faux-scandalized look. Then she grins." Not to ruin this core part of your identity," Abby rolls her eyes because she’s afraid what Riley might see behind her eyes if she doesn’t, "but you obviously do. I didn’t make all this happen by myself, Lilypad." 

"Lilypad?"

Riley’s nicknames have gotten increasingly ridiculous in recent months and seeing each other in person has amped it up even more. "I’m workshopping!! As an academic you know all about the importance of drafts."

And there’s a _moment_ , as Riley’s nose almost brushes Abby when she jokingly leans close, that Abby won’t be able to stop thinking about for the next week. 

They watch a movie that night, basking in their officially unpacked status. Riley has a penchant for horror, unsurprisingly, but tonight they pick a romcom that keeps popping up on her Netflix cue. It’s too warm and light of an evening for anything else. Abby nods off before the leads have even met, lulled by the scent of Riley’s perfume and music from the TV. When she wakes up it’s dark and her head is tucked into Riley’s shoulder. Riley looks down when she feels the shift and smiles, low in the dark. A _Full House_ rerun is playing on the TV now and Uncle Joey makes everyone laugh as Riley reaches out to brush hair off her face. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"You didn’t! Or. Um. It’s good you did? I should probably be getting home now."

"Oh, it’s later than I thought isn’t it." And Riley looks sad at this realization, like she wants Abby to stay curled against her or something equally ridiculous. 

Abby slowly pulls herself away, stretches a sore muscle in her neck. "Have a good first day tomorrow. I’ll be rooting for you, _Pumpkin_!" 

Riley’s right hand slips underneath Abby’s and hits the exact spot that she hasn’t been able to reach. "Is that some kind of magic doctor trick?"

Riley chuckles and Abby feels it deep in her stomach. "Is what?"

"You always find my sore muscles. And you fixed John’s weird finger the other day."

"Alas, not a special doctor secret."

"No?"

"Your neck pain is probably because of my boxes though, so I owe you." 

"Nerd. You’d help even if I injured myself doing something completely self-serving."

"Nerd??"

"Yeah. _Nerd_ ". 

Abby grins and Riley digs her fingers in a little harder, "would a nerd know how to do this?" 

In a spot-adjacent imitation of Riley’s signature deadpan, Abby nods. "That’s exactly the kind of thing a nerd would know."

Riley rolls her eyes. "I think you’re good to go, Cowgirl." 

Abby rolls her shoulders back and doesn’t feel anything twinge. "God, how do you do that? If it’s not a magic trick."

"Just a talent. Always been able to do it." 

Riley winks and _fuck_ , Abby’s pretty sure she would follow Riley anywhere. "And here I thought I knew you! Do you have any more secret skills waiting in the wings?"

"Don’t worry Sunshine, you do. I gotta keep a few secrets, just so you stick around." 

And maybe there’s a _moment_ , or the glimmerings of one but then they make eye contact for just a second too long, Kimmy slams the Tanner’s front door, and both the canned television audience and women on the couch burst into laughter. 

Finally Riley stops giggling and sighs, looking at Abby like she’s _something precious_. (Abby doesn’t know what to make of that, doesn’t know if Riley can see that she’s about three seconds from crumbling, from making whatever is happening between them in the dark real.) But then Riley stands up, holds out her hands to pull Abby with her, and walks to the door. "Good night, Sunshine."

Abby almost asks _do I still get to see you now that you don’t need me to help unpack your silverware_ but Riley beats her to it. "I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Dinner? To celebrate what will hopefully be a good first day?"

Abby rolls down her windows as she drives home and breathes deep into her lungs, holding as much of the day in her body as possible. It’s a clear, warm night and Abby falls asleep easily. 

So yeah. Summer is _Riley’s season_. The next few months pass in a blur of peeling shoulders and noses after sitting too long in the sun, long nights on Riley’s balcony with their feet tucked under the railing to dangle off the edge, and peals of laughter as they throw popcorn at each other. 

Riley settles into her new job easily, coming back each day with exciting stories or palpable relief while Abby grades papers from the one summer class she has to teach. The heat of the summer drives them to any available water, dragging John or one of Riley’s new coworkers with them. John’s apartment turns out to have slightly better air conditioning (mostly because Riley’s keeps breaking) and he gets home to find her and Abby starfished out on the floor, pressing as much skin as possible to the cool wood at least once a week. Abby’s days are full of teaching, research, and then _RileyRileyRiley_. The sun beats down while they put as much ice into drinks as possible and when warm air wafts in through the windows they blow on each other’s foreheads and necks like children. It mostly makes them laugh (and fucking works as a cool down strategy) but Abby’s whole body _buzzes_ when Riley leans in and she could sit like this forever, sweating quietly with Riley’s face hovering near hers, the particular sounds of a city in the summer keeping them company. 

Abby feels like a teenager sometimes around Riley, awkward _yes_ , but also just completely blown away and totally in awe of her friend. (friend???? Neither of them have made an attempt to date anyone else recently which Abby doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about.) She feels totally comfortable around Riley, and still totally discombobulated, but she hasn’t felt like a kid in a long time and even if her crush is silly, even if she can’t get Riley’s long legs and bare shoulders and shiny hair out of her head, it’s just _fun_. (and a little torturous.) 

Something in the back of her mind whispers _you don’t need to get over this_ , proudly presenting flashes of an expression that Riley gets sometimes ( _pretty often actually_ ) almost peaceful, a little mystified, and absolutely adoring. Abby can recognize the face, knows it’s aimed at her, but she’s smart enough to understand that drawing conclusions off of something as small as an smile would be _stupid_ , will only lead to a fractured feeling in her chest and a pulsing pain in her temples when it all gets ruined. 

(And yet, she knows Riley _really well_ , knows what her expressions mean, and maybe there’s a chance this isn’t entirely in Abby’s head.)


	4. fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last one!!!!! full circle baby!!! if you made it this far thank you!! please let me know how you feel after reading if you are so inclined <3!

The long summer days gradually shorten, the heat begins to cool, Abby gets a new crop of freshmen to reassure about their grades, and magically, Riley is still there. Her laugh lifts Abby’s chest the same way the summer breezes do and her smile is full of every night they’ve spent cackling on the couch, worries tucked under the teetering coat rack for the night. By the time the first chills spread through the air and the distinctly _fall_ smell is beginning to wind its way into Abby’s nose she can’t deny it. She loves her. (There isn’t anything she can imagine doing with her summer that’s better than falling in love with someone as thrilling and warm as Riley.)

She says as much to John who rolls his eyes for _way_ longer than necessary, but before she can wave the confession off he beams at her with so much pride that her breath catches. (John isn’t anything like her parents, but something about the way he takes care of her feels like the closest thing to parenting that she’s felt since their crash.) 

"What’s the face for?" 

"I’m happy for you, Abs. Like, you’re the last to know, but that’s wonderful."

"It is?"

"I’m really happy for you. No one deserves this more." He pauses, wrinkles his nose, and plunges forward. "You have to tell her." 

Abby can feel her stomach _plunge,_ "But like . . . what if I don’t?"

"ABBY. You have to!" 

"What if she doesn’t feel it?" 

"There’s no way she doesn’t. Have you like, ever seen how she looks at you? Like you’re a treasure. Which you are! Obviously. She’s just smart enough to really know." Abby accepts that this might be true, that John wouldn't lie to her, but the stakes still feel way too high.

"Then why do I have to say something??" 

"Because communication is IMPORTANT Abs! You guys deserve a real start. But she’s not gonna tell you."

"Riley’s way braver than I am, she might!" 

"No. She won’t. She doesn’t want to push you."

It occurs to Abby that John isn't necessarily this perceptive. "Have you guys?? Talked about this??" 

"I happen to be extremely perceptive _Abby_! Also yes. Once. It was hot and we were tired. Sue me. 

He takes a deep breath and a pained look flashes across his face, only to be replaced by a look that can only be described as “cat that got the canary.” "Ok I’m not supposed to say this but she really, really, really likes you. Say something." And then he smiles again, pulls her into a hug. "You got this."

Abby doesn’t know why the thought of talking to Riley is so _terrifying_. She talks to Riley all the time, has told other girls she likes them first. But this is _Riley_ , her friend. Yeah, she’s like _absolutely irrevocably in love with her_ but they’re still _friends_. Riley, with her keen eyes and soft laugh and dry humor matters more to her than Abby thought a person who she hadn’t known since college (hi John) could. She can’t break this, she _can’t_. Abby’s not sure if she could survive the winter Riley’s sudden absence would bring. She’s so used to being warm. 

Fall advances into October, bringing orange leaves and rain. Abby gets used to letting herself into Riley’s apartment and making tea, starting to lesson plan for the next week. The leaves swirl by the large front windows (still the best part about this place) and each time Riley gets home, shucking off her rain soaked coat, droplets glittering in the waves of her wet hair, Abby almost says something but the words catch in her throat. And maybe this is _baggage_ , like actual _Harper-relationship trauma_ , potentially Abby didn’t get off as unscathed as she thought, because worrying that one revelation could ruin a whole relationship, that something so good could secretly be rotting, that’s some _Harper shit_. 

Riley lifts her head from the kitchen sink where she’s trying to fish out a fork that’s stuck in the drain (oops) and winks, one eyebrow lifted as high as it will go just to make Abby laugh. Riley’s always doing that, actually. Increasingly silly things with the express purpose of getting Abby’s smile. And for some reason, here, on the tenth rainy day of the month, with Riley’s hand carefully stuck into the garbage disposal, wet leaves tracked by the apartment’s front door and Abby’s laptop starting to overheat that it really hits her. _Riley is not Harper_. 

And Riley isn’t Jenna from sophomore year LA or Priya from college orientation or Amelie from her summer internship after graduating or Hannah who worked at Abby’s favorite coffee shop either. Riley is different.

Riley is her friend and one of the first people she texts after something exciting happens and the only person she texts when something not exciting happens because Riley still always wants to know. She _also_ has a laugh that makes Abby’s whole body melt and her skin is soft, and _Abby really really would like to kiss her_.

From the kitchen Abby hears an audible whoop and then Riley pops her head back up, slimy fork hanging from her fingers. "Got the fucker". Riley’s eyes soften as Abby smiles and Abby thinks that Riley is like a sunset. But she’s not sure how, because actual-not-metaphorical-Riley is too distracting for any coherent thought.

So. Maybe this thing isn’t so fragile after all. She holds this new realization inside her ribs where everything really important is, prodding it gently with clean hands (#doctorknowledge) and gets used to its gentle, reassuring weight. 

The weekend before Halloween is blustery, wind knocking red and yellow leaves to the ground, and amidst the miniature tornados of autumnal color, Riley shows up at nine in the morning (which isn’t obscenely early really, but it’s the weekend so neither John or Abby are really awake yet.) She cheerily pounds on the door until Abby shuffles to the door (her friend = her job to open the door) and is met with a tidal wave of Riley who’s lugging multiple pumpkins with her. "Morning." 

Riley beams and slips on her (bad) southern drawl, "Sugar!" 

Abby’s eyes aren’t all the way open yet, so there’s no way she’s ready to stick her hands in slimy pumpkin guts yet. But then Riley sets down the pumpkins, comes from behind to slide her arms around Abby’s waist, and presses their cheeks together. "I’ll make coffee. Don’t worry." 

"Really?" 

"Of course, I know you. And I woke you up, so. You know. Fair’s fair." 

"I’d wake up anytime to see you." It’s a little early and Abby isn’t exactly on top of her hide-the-feelings game, but the words burst out sounding excruciatingly honest. 

She blushes, but Riley smiles and squeezes her waist. "Me too." 

She heads off to explore John’s most recent kitchen reorg but stops halfway there and spins around. "Like to see you. Not to see myself, did that sound weird??" 

Abby giggles (Abby doesn’t normally _giggle_ , she’s an adult, but Riley wrinkles her nose in a grin and everything is ok.) and follows, lets Riley wake her up with coffee and a story about her upstairs neighbor’s new puppy. John joins them a few hours later and they make a mess, pumpkin goop trailing across an embarrassing about of previously clean surfaces. When the room starts to smell too much like squash they open a window and the crisp fall air, bursting with a new kind of promise, comes flooding in as John and Riley debate the differences between apple juice and cider. It’s perfect. 

(On Halloween they set the pumpkins on the stoop and hand out candy while Riley asks every single kid about their costume. She’s dressed like a witch, kind of, and does a “scary” voice half the time the doorbell rings. Abby thinks she might explode from all the _wanting_ that buzzes under her skin.)

It’s November before anyone can blink, far enough from winter that nothing’s frozen over yet, but the air is getting icier by the day and Abby puts on gloves before she leaves John’s apartment for campus. Riley decides to make everything smell like cinnamon by boiling it when she’s home and starts wearing her hair in French braids for work. They’re all settling in, Abby sees it in her students as they prepare for seven more months of work, feels it in her bones every day she gets closer to finishing her dissertation (this year!), watches Riley pull thick hats down over her ears and goes to as many of John’s book launches as she can make, Riley hanging off her arm the whole time. And then one evening, a few days into December, it starts to snow. 

Abby’s at Riley’s apartment the way she always is and the air _smells like snow_ even before the flakes start to fall. Abby opens as many windows as she can before Riley gets home and shakes her head, "you know it’s freezing out there Cowgirl?" but she doesn’t move to shut them, just shakes the melting snowflakes out of her hair. And somewhere between the mild cinnamon of the room mixing with the frosty air, after Riley opens the door but before she gets her scarf off, Abby is off the couch, across the room, and kissing her. 

Time stops, or speeds up, or maybe the only change is Riley’s mouth (warm and sweet and a little chapped) against Abby’s. Riley chuckles, low and deep in her chest, without pulling away. Instead, her hands (hands that Abby has dreamed about) slide to Abby’s waist and she pulls them even closer together. Abby’s nose is filled with the heady scent of _Riley_ and _yes_ up close is definitely the best way to experience it. 

A few snowflakes swirl into the still-open windows but Abby is utterly caught up in Riley, her chilled fingers slipping underneath Abby’s sweater and Abby’s hands brushing against Riley’s jaw. The kiss is exactly like everything else Riley does, a blend of intensity and raspy softness, slow and sweet and _completely_ overwhelming. Abby can feel a bubble of laughter spreading through her and evidently Riley can too, because she pulls back, face flushed and breathing heavily, and smirks. "What are you laughing at, Abby?" 

The use of her name, her official, actual name lands the moment more than anything else that’s happened. _This is real. It’s happening._ Abby steps closer, tilts her head up to Riley’s and wraps her arms around Riley’s neck. "I was just thinking about how I should have done this way sooner." 

Riley scrunches her face and it’s so cute that Abby’s palms _burn_. "I like us."

"Me too." 

"Yeah?" A light glitters behind Riley's eyes as she asks. 

"Definitely." 

"Good to know. For real."

And then Riley tugs her back in, and Abby silently thanks whatever god is listening because she doesn’t think she could stay apart from Riley for longer than five seconds. And this is how they stay, long dark hair whipping around in the wind that carries the snow inside, Riley’s back against the front door and Abby drinking her in, over and over and over, long and loving and _wanting_ , enough to forget about the open windows because nothing could possibly cool the hot press of Riley’s skin against Abby’s, not even the impending Pittsburg winter.


End file.
